


Restraint

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Chastity Device, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 09:26:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13521342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis’ relief is too hard to come by.





	Restraint

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Noctis has to be a virgin for Reasons. When he starts to show interest in sex as a teenager, he has to start wearing a chastity device. Completely optional bonuses: +Ignis is the one who has the key to unlock it ++he gets to have it off for specified time frames so he can jerk off to avoid any unhealthy buildup of frustration +++he can only have it off when Ignis is present in his apartment to make sure he's not sneaking out to get laid +++++++++Noct and Ignis having a talk about whether Noct is allowed to kiss people or do other things that don't involve removing the chastity device if you want to go shippy I ship Noct/everyone but it could also be gen honestly” prompt on [the FFXV kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4398.html?thread=8686894#cmt8686894).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Some days, he can handle it, and others, he just wants to scream. By the time the elevator clicks onto his floor, Noctis is practically shaking. As soon as he gets home, he knows he’s going to whip out his phone and _demand_ that Ignis come over. He’s almost always low-key frustrated, but now it’s boiling over. Practice was torture. He almost _ordered_ Gladiolus to put on a shirt, because it should be illegal to be so _built_ , to have so many thick muscles in all the right places, accentuated with tantalizing tattoos and a winning smirk, all topped off with a healthy dose of natural charm. Before that, he was at the arcade with Prompto, vainly trying not to notice how wildly _cute_ his enthusiastic, loyal, gorgeous best friend is. And his handsome advisor will only make things worse, but Ignis has his key.

He slips into his apartment, slamming the door before he can stop himself. He kicks off his shoes and notices a second, slightly larger pair already on the matt. He’s just stepped out into his socks when a familiar voice calls, “Noct?” 

Noctis sucks in a breath and schools himself back to normal. He should’ve known Ignis would already be around. He always is when Noctis needs him. And Noctis needs him more than ever now, because sooner rather than later, they’re going to have to have _the talk._

Or at least, he’d rather have it with Ignis. He knows the top authority on his virginity is, somehow, his father, even the council, but the thought of asking them if he could please make out with his bestie or shower with his shield is embarrassing beyond belief. Ignis will have to do. Ignis always knows their world’s inane little laws.

Noctis wanders in towards the living space, and sure enough, Ignis is tucked behind the kitchenette. He has a pot on the stove that’s boiling away, a carrot and some green onions lying on the chopping black. For once, Noctis doesn’t protest them. He’s got more important things to deal with, and as Ignis looks up at his approach, Noctis grunts, “Key?”

Ignis nods. He fishes into the pocket of his pants, producing a small, silver key that he steps over to place in Noctis’ palm. There’s no judgment on his face. There used to be guilt, but they’ve gotten passed that. Noctis knows it’s not Ignis’ choice. And he’d rather have his adviser hold his key than his father. He closes his fingers around it and turns towards the bathroom.

He pauses, torn between running away from another awkward conversation and just getting it over with. Ignis seems to sense his hesitation, waiting wordlessly. Finally, Noctis dryly asks him, eyes somewhere on the far wall, “Am I allowed to kiss?”

Ignis is quiet, then slowly answers, “I’m not the best one to ask.”

“I’m not going to ask anyone else. Do _you_ think you’ll get in trouble if I’m found kissing someone? Like, just a kiss? With my clothes still on?” That’s honestly one of his biggest concerns. Not just being _inappropriate_ , but it reflecting poorly on Ignis, who’s been entrusted with his virtue. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if Ignis was replaced.

Ignis sighs. His voice is so _soft_ as he replies, “I appreciate your concern for me, Noct. And... I imagine kissing would be acceptable.”

Noctis should nod and move on. He knows that. The key is burning into his palm, his hidden armour tingling below his clothes. But he blurts anyway, “How about making out?”

Ignis doesn’t answer. Noctis finally turns to look at him and sees a slight flush across his chiseled features, his gaze carefully averted. “I’m old enough for sex,” Noctis practically growls, even though he _knows_ there’s no point in taking it out on Ignis. “And I get that doesn’t matter because I’m a prince, but I’m just... I’m so _frustrated._ ” 

“It would be best if you relieved yourself,” Ignis tells him levelly. “I will remain here; that, at least, is allowed while I am around to act as chaperone.” As though that’s settled it, Ignis turns back to the stove. He lifts the lid on the pot and dips a wooden spoon into it to stir, while Noctis stares at the loose bow the apron’s made over his rear.

Noctis watches for a moment, Ignis’ lean form slinking expertly across Noctis’ kitchenette, pouring everything into feeding at least one of Noctis’ appetites, always so dedicated to his prince. The longer Noctis waits, the more he catches the warm smell of food, and finally, the sugary scent of pastries baking. Ignis must be making him dessert—probably that special one that he had in Tenebrae all those years ago. 

Noctis finally breaks the silence, quietly asking, “Will you come help me?” He already knows the answer is no. But he wants it to be _yes_ so badly that he can’t seem to help it.

Without turning around, Ignis stiffly repeats, “Help you?”

“Help me jerk off.” There’s no graceful way to say it. “Touch me. Let me touch you. Anything.”

He can see a subtle shiver run through Ignis’ taut shoulders. Ignis tells him, “I can’t.”

He needs to know: “Because you don’t want to?”

“Because it would be wrong.”

That’s something. Better than the alternative. But somehow, knowing Ignis isn’t against it, not beyond the stupid _law_ and the chastity device bound firmly around Noctis’ waiting cock, only makes it worse. Noctis grits his teeth together, irritation simmering beneath his skin. He wants to storm into the palace and throw the key right at his father’s face. 

Instead, he clutches it tightly in his hand and storms off towards the washroom, picturing three handsome faces in his desperate mind.


End file.
